Morning, Afternoon

For a while I think and sit,
Elastic yet inanimate.
Another morning has occurred,
On time, as if prepared.

A perfect timetable of days
That never ends. That’s all it is.
That’s life. With no regard for me
Or my reality.

I wake, I work, I go to eat.
Just like the days, on fixed repeat.
Without the same efficiency
Or ruthless energy.

Another day, then. Still attached.
Uncomfortable, reminded, watched.
And still with this priority
To make outsiders see.

II

The inelastic morning brought
Four stanzas of related thought,
The fourth and most important one
A failure on its own.

It told the present circumstance
With subtle failure to convince,
The word choice inappropriate,
At least to some extent.

The early afternoon brings two
New stanzas, first, and then a few,
Each weak, each a confederate
To add to the estate.

III

I think it was a single word
That made that final stanza bad —
The word was ‘watched’ — I can’t say how;
Not certain that I know.

It’s too explicit, sells too much
And needs a much more nimble touch,
Less noticeable and less a trigger.
Smaller; also bigger.